War disorganizes, but it is to reorganize.
Cancer is my own private war. The strain, the nausea, the fever take turns challenging my strength, my mind and my spirit.
There are no words to express how sad and devastated I am. I have lost one of my dearest friends, and the industry has lost a giant.
Cancer is a disease that is mysterious, headstrong and makes its own rules. And mine, to this date, is incurable.
I'm a private person. I'm shy about people knowing things.
Marriages that last are with people who do not live in Los Angeles.
It's much easier to go through something and deal with it without being under a microscope. . . It was stressful. I was terrified getting the chemo. It's not pleasant. And the radiation is not pleasant.
Barack wants to stop all children from working on the farm. . . Can you imagine this? I just, I can't fathom that. Did you ever think we'd grow up in America and see something like that? Let me take it one step further. He wants to disallow the 4-H from training children to work on a farm.
A number of U. S. colleges are going to start having dorms for alcoholics. I believe those are called dorms.
Everywhere, I'm looking to reach elegance and intelligence.
Thus, the poet's word is beginning to strike forcefully upon the hearts of all men, while absolute men of letters think that they alone live in the real world.